My mouth was terribly dry when I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry again and I could hear the rush of oxygen. Another set back I thought until I heard my name being called over and over again. The voice wasn't a familiar one. Not Brion. Not my Dad. None of my other family or friends. Nor was it any of the three nurses that I could recall caring for me over the last two weeks in the ICU. I glanced down and saw the horseshoe shaped oxygen mask covering the bottom of my face, then followed the voice to the face that floated above me. Dark brown eyes behind square framed glasses and something about her eyeshadow made me laugh. It came out in a slurred giggle and she smiled.
"You with us honey," she said with a deep southern drawl, her thin peach tinted lips parted in a smile. "You did great young man. That bullet came out clean."
Not another setback. I remembered now. Today was the day I got rid of the last souvenir from that awful night some two months ago. I'd almost died. I did die, twice, technically but it didn't stick thanks to the surgeon who wouldn't give up on me. Probably a little divine intervention too but I can't be too certain about that. Either way I was alive and making progress.
I'd started therapy, physical and speech, to help speed my return to normalcy. I could wash myself now and move from the bed to the chair with relative ease. I still wasn't eating solids yet but I'd always loved jello and popsicles so I didn't mind much. The chest tube was gone but the catheter still remained but the doctor promised that it would be gone after this last surgery. So far, he'd made good on his word so I had no reason to question it.
"I'm thirsty," I said and my voice sounded harsh. "My mouth's crazy dry."
"I thought you had aphasia," she said, looking down her glasses at me.
"I don't even know what that means," I said and she laughed a little.
"Lets get you settled first and we'll see about getting you some ice chips. There's a couple guys out there waiting, want me to send them back? They can hang out with you until you're room is ready."
Today was also the day I checked out of the ICU. Chrissy was there to see me off, she seemed sad to see me go and made me promise to come back and visit when I got myself back right again. She was a sweetheart and I don't think I would have made such a quick turn around without her gentle pressure to push myself. She never did take my pad but only because I didn't stop talking, no matter how messed up my words came out.
"Wait, you understood me?"
"Sure did honey, listen to yourself. Maybe it was waking up from the anesthesia, or just that it ran it's course. Doubt we'll ever know," she said before she left me.
I could have cared less of the reasoning just that it was over. That was more frustrating than not being able to move. I had always been a man of few words but I knew well how to put them together. It was irritating knowing what I wanted to say but having it come out in an unpredictable mishmash of nouns and verbs. I couldn't control it, believe me I tried. Even the speech therapy didn't help. We'd go back and forth, saying a phrase one word at a time but as soon as it was time to string them together it was like somebody put them in a blender on their way from brain to mouth. It was awful and thankfully I didn't have to worry about that anymore. Now I could focus on getting my body right, even if I'd lost 30 pounds and my arm was in a sling for who knew how long. But those were things I could fix and even if I couldn't get back to 100% the possibility of a having a normal life after all this seemed much more plausible if I could speak.
My Dad came in first, and I was actually glad to see him. True to his word, he'd been coming to see me every day. Sometimes he only stayed a few minutes but more often than not he spent his evening with me. It was tentative at first, neither of us really knew how to act around each other. It was Brion's idea to bring out the dominos. Nothing breaks the ice for Black men like cards or bones and eventually we got to the point where we could laugh and joke. He had even gotten to the point that he didn't have to avert his eyes at every show of affection between Brion and I. It wasn't like we were making out in front of him but he stopped looking uncomfortable when we touched. And it seemed that he and Mac had rekindled their friendship as well. On the nights she was on, Chrissy would bend the rules a little and let all three of them in as long as we didn't get too loud. Which didn't always happen when we started playing tonk and spades but we made an effort.
"Don't look at me like that Pop," I said to him and he furrowed his brows. "Like I'm dying or something. I might look worse but I feel better but that could just be these awesome drugs," I said and tapped the IV pole. He came over to the bed, shaking his head and gave my head a rough rub.
"A father can't be worried about his boy," he said and I smiled as he took my hand. "I been up half the night worried about today. That woman ain't help none..."
"You can save that for somebody else..."
"Anybody else," Mac said from behind my father. Brion pushed past both of them and came to the other side of the bed, shock plain on his face. All I could do was smile.
He ran his hand over my face, wanting to kiss me. It was in his eyes, and a few tears too, but he held back for my father's sake I'm sure. "I was kind of getting used to it," Brion said quietly as he slipped his hand behind my head.
"Well sucks to be you," I said and he laughed.
"Jerk."
"But you looooove me," I slurred a little, all of a sudden feeling sleepy again. I heard our dads laugh at that, my own patted my hand and let it go. I grabbed Brion's shirt front and pulled him closer so I could whisper in his ear, "And as soon as they get this tube out, we gonna see how well everything else works." I kissed him softly on the neck and he blushed a little as I let him go.
